


What Friends Are For

by InsertImaginativeNameHere



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: ADHD Junkrat, Discussion of Death, Dyslexic Junkrat, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Junkrat tries to be a Good Friend, Light Angst, Real Names, Reluctant Dad Roadhog, Self-Doubt, generic title is generic, these are vague little headcanons I have
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9149752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertImaginativeNameHere/pseuds/InsertImaginativeNameHere
Summary: It's not until a conversation late at night that Roadhog figures out Junkrat doesn't realise they are friends. When he admits that much, Junkrat decides he's going to be the best friend he can. Though he's clearly not really sure how. And it's more than a little obvious.





	

**Author's Note:**

> these fuckin nerds are so so fun to write dear god  
> reluctant dad roadhog and his explosive son who makes crafts and bombs

They’d just finished making a getaway from some cheap burger joint they’d raided, flopping down in the motel room, finally able to relax. Or at least Roadhog was, for all of five minutes, because with an overly-excitable idiot laughing madly and bouncing around the place on a peg-leg, it was hard to get any downtime. He looked over at Junkrat and sighed.

“Did you lose your leg through overusing it? Did it just wear down into nothing because you didn’t stop leaping around like a bloody madman?”

Junkrat shrugged, flopping down on the bed. “Oh c’mon! Just because yer booooooring. Lighten up a little, Roadie. Let some fun into yer life.”

“I’d rather not,” Roadhog replied bluntly. There was enough ‘fun’ in his life with bodyguarding that idiot. He hardly needed any more.

He set to work putting his gear to the side, smartening up his hook so it’d have maximum impact when he next used it, cleaning out powder and scraps of metal from the inside of his gun. He was tired. Really, he just wanted to go to sleep. So he did, flopping down onto the bed and drifting off, shutting out Junkrat’s yammering for five minutes to just  _ sleep _ . And it worked. For the first time in too long, he actually got a decent rest, without being interrupted or shaken awake or having their hotel room explode because  _ somebody _ was wondering what happened when you let off grenades in the toilet.

Of course, it couldn’t last.

“Psst, Hog.” He heard the whisper in the dark. “You awake, mate? Hoggo?”

“No,” Roadhog muttered, pulling a pillow over his head. “Fast asleep.”

“Oh. Okay.” He wondered for a moment if Junkrat would accept this at face value, if he  _ really _ was that gullible. He didn’t think he was. “Listen Hoggo, I been thinkin’.” This conversation could go literally anywhere. It could be about poisonous frogs or about dragons or bomb-making strategies. “If I- if I went an’ died, what d’ya think ya’d do?” 

Out of anything he could have expected, that really wasn’t it. Roadhog blinked, stunned, letting go of the pillow and sitting up abruptly. 

“What do you mean?” 

“What I say, mate. If I weren’t here no more…” Junkrat trailed off. “I dunno. ‘s not like anyone would miss me, roight? I mean I’d say maybe you would but that’d be flattering meself. Yer just in this for the money and the treasure. An’ I know ya’d be doing just fine wi’out me. It’d prob’ly be a relief not ta have me dragging ya down. Y’know, havin’ to protect my skinny arse from me own stupidity. Ya’d be better off.”

Roadhog wasn’t sure what to say. How did you reply to Junkrat’s uncharacteristically thoughtful rambling? What did you say to that kind of insecurity, ingrained Junker distrust of anything and anyone? He wasn’t sure. He had no fucking clue how to respond.

“No,” he growled, unable to find anything else to say. “ _ No _ .”

Junkrat sounded confused. “Whaddaya mean, Roadie-”

“ _ No _ ,” he repeated, voice low and dangerous, and he heard Junkrat shuffling back nervously, trying to get himself away from him. “I said no, Rat. Don’t assume to tell me what I think. Or what I’d do.”

“‘s true though, ain’t it, mate?”

“No!” Roadhog slammed a hand down on the bedside table, cracking it. He heard Junkrat jump. “No, it ain’t. Rat, you fuckin’ idiot. Don’t you ever fuckin’ think that. You…” he clenched his fists in anger and then exhaled hopelessly. “...I don’t make friends easy. You know that. Even before all this shit started, I wasn’t winning no popularity contests. Point is, Rat, out of everyone I’ve ever known, ever, you’re still the best mate I’ve ever had. An’ I ain’t losing that. You ain’t a burden. You’re the  _ boss _ . We’re in this together, an’ I- an’ you  _ matter _ to me.” It was probably the longest thing he’d said in a while, and he’d found himself saying things he’d never planned to verbalise and hadn’t known he was even thinking. He was glad Junkrat couldn’t see his face, how awkward he had felt, how hard it was to say those things. “Got it?”

Silence. He wondered if Junkrat had actually been listening or had fallen asleep, or zoned out midway through. Then he heard a sort of...not-quite, but almost sob, and a happy-sounding chuckle.

“Roadie, mate. That’s the nicest fuckin’ thing anyone’s ever said to me. Y’serious?”

Roadhog nodded. “I’m serious.”

Junkrat clapped his hands together in excitement, then flung himself headlong at Roadhog, wrapping his lanky arms around Roadhog’s vast gut. “Thanks. Yer my best mate too. I didn’t think...I-” he cut off, words choking. “I ain’t hardly believe it. Hog, yer my bestie. I thought...like, I thought ya hated me.”

Roadhog snorted. “Believe me, I’ve tried. Can’t hate you. Doesn’t mean you ain’t a pain in the arse though, Rat. ‘Cause you are.”

“Aww, ya say the nicest things.” Junkrat wiped away a couple of stray tears. “Yer too nice to me.”

Roadhog thought about the kid’s past. He’d grown up a Junker, not being able to trust or rely on anyone. Backstabbing, conniving, stealing. Being betrayed. Never trusting, never having anyone. It was fucked up that the supposedly nicest thing anyone had said was Roadhog’s shitty monologue. But he didn’t doubt it was true, and wasn’t Junkrat’s typical melodrama seeping through. Too late, he realised he was in this too deep, he couldn’t leave now. He cared about the kid’s welfare. Someone had to. 

“You feelin’ better now, Rat?”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m fine. Thanks Hog. For everything.”

“No problem,” Roadhog replied, internally well aware that there were many, many problems, at least 75% of them caused by Junkrat, if not more. But that was beside the point. He moved the kid back to his own bed, tucking him in. 

“Night Roadie,” he heard him mumble through the blankets.

Roadhog closed his eyes. “Goodnight.”

 

-

 

A few days passed, a few towns too. They moved onwards, carrying out jobs where they saw them. They didn’t mention that conversation again, but Junkrat seemed more settled around him. Less jumpy. Cheerful as ever. One morning, a couple of days later, he presented Roadhog with a grubby piece of paper, glitter and feathers stuck all over it. Roadhog stared at it strangely. 

“What’s this?” he asked, trying to keep some of the disdain out of his voice.

Junkrat scratched his patchy hair and smiled awkwardly. “‘s a card. Made it, I did. Spent ages on it.”

Roadhog looked it over. “It looks... _ nice _ .” It looked like someone had genuinely taken a shit on it, but Roadhog wasn’t about to let Junkrat find that out. He opened it. Inside were the words ‘HAPPie BiRTHDAY RODeHoGG’ in rough crayon, a smiley face, signed with a name Roadhog didn’t recognise; ‘JAMie’. 

He didn’t have the heart to point out it wasn’t even his birthday. “Huh. Jamie?” Junkrat nodded. “Short for James?”

Junkrat laughed nervously. “Heheh I wish, mate. Jamison. Jamison Fawkes.” He extended his metal arm in faux-politeness. “Pleased to meet ya.”

Roadhog shook his hand. “Fawkes. Pretty apt.” He wasn’t about to comment on Jamison. 

“I know, right?” Junkrat smirked. “Only difference is, if I tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament, I’d succeed. Hey, Roadie? Ya wanna go blow up some big old building? It’ll be fun,” he suggested absently, as he did when he didn’t have anything else to say. Yeah, suggest blowing something up. Perfect.

Instead as replying, Roadhog fished about in his pockets for a pen that just about worked and made a slight correction. Not to Junkrat’s spelling, that would have been too harsh and uncalled for. Underneath ‘RODeHoGG’ he made an addition in brackets, ‘Mako’, then passed the card back to Junkrat, who frowned in confusion.

“Mah- May? How’d you say this? An’ what’re the weird curly things.”

“They’re brackets. And it says Mako,” Roadhog replied. “Mako Rutledge. My name.”

“Wow. Ya got a pretty cool name, Hog. Sounds real bad-arse.” Roadhog grunted noncommittally. He hadn’t considered it his name for a long while. He’d become Roadhog, and that was who he was. It defined him. Junkrat passed the card back. “Keep it. ‘s for you, after all.”

“Thanks, Rat.  _ Jamie _ .” The name sounded odd, and Junkrat shifted. It was probably the first time he’d heard it said out loud in years. “Means a lot.”

“No problem,  _ Mako _ . What are mates for?” Junkrat grinned. Roadhog tried to associate the name back to himself but couldn’t. It didn’t fit anymore. 

He put the card into a safe pocket and took it out later to look at it, feeling a little too much like a dad who’d been presented something by an overexcitable child. He sort of was, wasn’t he? A kid who was proud of something he’d made. 

Because the last time he’d had someone to really trust had been a  _ long _ time ago. What else would he know to do? 

Roadhog held onto the card. Even if it did look like shit.

Because it  _ did _ mean a lot. Out here in this wasteland that he’d helped create, even now, he had a friend he’d never expected to. And true, the kid was obnoxious and loud and he did Roadhog’s head in, but he couldn’t help caring about him. It was sickening that he was quite possibly, if not  _ probably _ or  _ definitely _ the only one. 

And Junkrat cared too, in his weird little way. It came back around. 

Roadhog held onto the card. 

What else were friends for?

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!  
> why am I in this hell now  
> in defence of smth mildly awkward in the phrasing - bad-arse vs badass. Badass sounds more natural and is more of an accepted expression. I went w bad-arse bc tbh I know ppl who say it, my dad, couple of youtubers, so like it is said. It sounds a little odder but yeah it's not me going over the top w trying to do an accent. It's a legit thing.


End file.
